Trainwreck
by OBluver
Summary: She came with big brown boxes, bubble wrap, and a moving van. She knocked. Puck couldn’t think of one instance before when she had ever knocked. This was her home, their home. And now she was knocking like a stranger. Puck/Rachel, Future.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Well, hello all. This is my first ever Glee fan-fiction! Yay! But, this is just something that I've been working on, so I thought I would go ahead and put it out there. It is most definitely a Puck/Rachel, future-fic, thing, so read, review, and enjoy!

**Hour One**

An awkward energy had filled the house since she had entered earlier that evening. Would he greet her with a kiss? Should he opt out for a more friend type platonic hug? Or should he even greet her at all? This was her idea, not his. He was the broken one in this situation. He was the one lying on the floor with the knife wound to the heart. He had been dumped.

She came with big brown boxes, bubble wrap, and a moving van. She knocked. Puck couldn't think of one instance before when she had ever knocked. Before, he would always here her grumbling from the other side of the door as she searched through her large designer bag for her keys. But it was that fact. She had keys. This was her home, their home. And now she was knocking like a stranger, like her clothes weren't still littered across their bedroom floor and her low fat raspberry sorbet wasn't filling up their freezer.

"Hello" he greeted quietly opening the door and warmth of their home to her. It was odd to have to offer something so familiar up. She offered up a small smile as she bent down to pick up some of the boxes, that he assumed she had put on the ground in order to knock. It was then that he noticed the snow. It was falling lightly, covering everything with a light pure layer of white.

"How long has it been snowing?" He asked, moving aside to let her gain entrance into the house. She looked at him a strangely, as if perturbed by the question.

"For about thirty minutes. Did you not notice?" She shot back a little out of breath.

It was typical Rach; respond to a question with another question. Draw attention from her, and place it onto you. He liked to refer it as one of her favorite sources of sabotage. If you can't win by your own intelligence, demean your opponents. Make them think that you have the upper hand. And whatever you do, don't let them have the last word.

"No, I honestly didn't" His voice was a little bit more irritable than he had intended. She only stared at him for a second before scoffing away muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'Typical.' And, he guessed it was typical. Nothing would ever _really_ change between them.

**Hour Two**

"Ok, I'm about ready to get out of here." Her voice drifted throughout the room, jogging him out of his television induced daze. She stood in front of him with a box in her arms and a pained expression on her face. It wasn't one of sadness or fear, but confusion.

"Would you like me to walk you out?" he asked hesitantly, wondering if it was the right move to make. This was all new. Neither of them knew the protocol for something like this, and it left them both with an uneasy feeling. She stood for a moment contemplating her response, before opening her mouth to reply.

"That's… ok. I'll be fine." Her head was nodding up and down in order to reassure herself that this would indeed the right choice for the both of them.

"Are you sure?" He asked, grabbing at straws. He stood up, but she was already walking towards the front door, box in hand.

"No, you should stay in here." She said turning back towards him. "It will be better that way. I guess in a symbolic way my walking out of this door is the actual start of the end." He felt a lump grow in his throat, and wondered if she had one growing too. A rush of cool air hit his skin as she opened the door revealing the snow storm that was raging outside. She turned back briefly before shutting the door behind her. "One of us has to end this now, and we both know that it would be better if it was me. Goodbye Puck."

It was over. It had been over for a while. But this was it. This was the **end. **This house was now all his. It was over, and an unexpected emptiness filled Puck. He had not wanted it, at first he had not even accept it, but he had dealt with it and had moved on. But now all he could feel was the emptiness. The house was empty. Her closet was now empty. His life seemed to have emptied out with the contents of her things.

Minutes passed, still Puck did not move from his position. He almost felt as if he was incapable of moving. Sixty seven minutes ago he had been fine. He could move. He could breath. He could think of other things besides the back of her head walking off into the snowy night. A sudden knock sounded at the door, and it seemed to jolt the life back into him. His once numb feet were now on fire, and they moved with a speed that he didn't even know he possessed. It was like something had suddenly lit up in his heart, giving him hope, giving him passion. It welcomed whoever was on the other side of that door openly.

As he reached for the door handle his hands shook with anticipation. His heart beat loudly in his chest, yearning for this stranger who he instinctively knew would fill the emptiness that continued to stream into his chest, making it hard to breath. Within milliseconds the door was open and Puck looked eagerly out for the face of his savior, hope constantly rising in his chest; then in all smashed into pieces, piercing his heart, as if it were broken glass. He had seen this face before. This was a face that had filled his days with light, and his nights with pleasure, for almost two years.

"There have been some… complications." She said quietly and calmly not moving an inch. He was rooted to the floor for a moment, trapped in the paralysis that had claimed him earlier. Thoughts raced through his head as he looked from his feet to a spot just beyond her left shoulder. He could not look at that face. If he did, he doubted that he would ever be able to escape his current state.

It took a little over a minute for the feeling to return back into his body. It started at his feet and then slowly, and warmly, spread its way up through the rest of him. Although he couldn't see it, he could feel Rachel's expectant stare.

"Complications?" Puck said lightly, almost comically, still not daring to look into her face. "How much more complicated can we get?"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Hello all! I hope everyone had a WONDERFUL Christmas, or whatever holiday you celebrate, cause I sure did! Well, here is the second chapter of Trainwreck. I'm really liking where this story is going so far, even though I'm still not sure about what length I should leave it at. It was never meant to be longer than six hours, but if I get some good feedback, I might stretch it out a bit! Speaking of feedback... I WANT SOME! I love all of you who added this story under your alerts or favorites, but I would really like some reviews. I love hearing what people think, especially since I've never written Glee fanfiction before. So... I'm done rambling. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please REVIEW!

**Hour Three**

"Well, it's official. There are no tow trucks willing to come out here either, so my car is pretty much useless." She huffed, throwing her mobile phone onto the couch next to where he was sitting. Still, his gaze never wavered from the television screen. He had to keep himself distracted if he was going to survive this night. He couldn't let himself get drawn back into her, just to have her leave once again.

"There's always a cab." Puck suggested, while simultaneously flipping through the channels trying to find a program that did not remind him of her. He tired not to let it show that he was failing miserably.

"Oh, don't get me started on cabs. The seats aren't clean. You know they always makes me nauseous."

"Well, last week you said that being in the same room as me made you nauseous, and you're doing a pretty good job of handling that right about now." He knew he had said the wrong thing, when he felt a light slap on his arm, and was forced to look up into her face. A bit a warmth spread through him at their close proximity. This was not good. He needed an escape, and he needed one quickly.

"That is beside the point."

"And would you be getting to that point any time soon?"

He heard a huff from behind him, and felt her form move away. Letting out a breath that he didn't know he had been holding, he turned back to the television, albeit, a little bit more tense than before.

There was something about Berry that just got to him. In the beginning, it was her attitude. Everything about her know it all self irked him. The way she walked, the way she called him Noah, the way she dressed, even the way she sang in Glee, as if she owed the place, bugged the crap out of him.

But then, somewhere between junior and senior year, that irritation changed. It didn't diminish one bit, but what had once been hate was now passion. And Puck couldn't help but get caught up in everything that was Rachel Berry. The things he used to hate about her turned into those little idiosyncrasies that he couldn't get enough of. He loved that she was the only one who took the time to call him his real name. He loved whenever Quinn wanted to go out, Rachel would babysit his daughter, and sing her lullabies to get her to sleep. And before he knew it he loved her.

"Noah, I don't want to fight with you today." Her soft voice carried throughout the room, abruptly alerting him to her presence. He stiffened, as he felt her weight sink into the spot on the couch next to him. She was so close, that maybe, just maybe, if he tried hard enough, he could hear her heart beating through her chest.

"I wasn't aware that we were fighting." Puck replied curtly, not trying to give away just how uncomfortable her presence had made him.

"Can't we just be civil until the storm passes? Then I can leave, and you can forget that I ever existed." The moment the words escaped her lips, his head whipped around in anger. It was a sudden feeling that Puck had become accustom to. It was the same feeling he got the first time that his dad had called him a screw up. It was the sudden flare of shock and outrage that tended to make him want to punch things.

"Do you really think I could ever forget you?" The question was not long and drawn out, but definite, and even for the few moments after it was said, its meaning seemed to hang in the air. He briefly wondered if it was enough, enough to get his point across, and then another thought blared across his mind. "Do you really think I'd ever want to forget you?"

**Hour Four**

Silence. The only sounds that were carrying through the room were the ones emitting out of the television set. It was odd, in a way. Rachel had never stayed quiet for this long. Some kind of noise was always coming out of her mouth. When she;s happy, it's usually a song. When she's angry, it's usually her screams of outrage. And, even when she is fully content, it's hard for her to suppress a sigh of happiness.

But now there was nothing. After Puck's outburst, they had sat in silence. Both were pretending to watch whatever crappy cop movie was playing on TV, but neither could really focus enough to follow what was really going on. They were both sitting there waiting. Waiting for the other one to give into the silence first.

Puck sat completely still, every few minutes giving himself mental pep talks. He had never been the one to have to speak first. Rachel had always been the one to reach out the olive branch. It was in her nature to care about people's feelings, and even when she was angry with him, she wouldn't make him suffer. He always said that she loved him too much. And now, here she was, not saying a word.

His only safe mental haven was the window. He knew that, whatever lay outside that window, determined his fate. If the snow would let up, even for a half an hour or so, he could get it to where her car was working, and he would escape this mental prison that she had put him in.

But, these looks were to no avail, as ever time he glanced out of the window, it seemed to be snowing harder than before. Each moment he sat there on the couch with her, the ache in his chest intensified a little bit more. Soon, it would be almost unbearable. He couldn't continue to be here with her, knowing that she was going to leave him, knowing that she didn't love him enough anymore to even speak to him.

Suddenly, everything was plunged in darkness. He wondered for a moment if he had fainted out of mental exhaustion. However, he had no such luck. Rachel gasped loudly, and instinctually reached for his hand. She held onto it for a brief second before letting go, obviously forgetting their situation. Not being able to take the darkness, and the silence, and the involuntary touching all wrapped up together, Puck finally broke down and extended the olive branch.

"The power went out." He said softly, as not to startle her into accidentally touching him again. It didn't. "Our power never went out before." It had slipped out before he could stop himself. But, after all, it was a pretty new concept to him. For the past two years this had been, 'their' house, and now it was just his. Puck silently berated himself, thinking that he had screwed this up, before she spoke.

"Well, it's never snowed this hard before." Her voice was not as soft as his, but rather slow, as if she was trying hard to make him understand something.

"I guess this old house just couldn't take it all."

"Maybe it's not the house's fault at all. Maybe it's the snow's." Her voice contained a sudden sense of urgency, and everything became clear to him.

"The snow can't be blamed for the breakdown of a faulty house." He said, letting his voice take on the slow quality that her's had. "Sure, the snow moved it along, but it would've happened eventually no matter what. If it wasn't this one big thing now, there would have been a million little things, slowly chipping away at it."

The silence reigned again, but this time it felt more liberating. He had said something. Not everything, mind you, but he had said something. Over the four years that he had been with Rachel, he had never had a single problem sticking up for himself. They could fight from sun rise to sun set. But that was before she had told him that she was leaving. After that, he couldn't will himself to fight. Not even say a word. And he hated himself for it. He hated that he couldn't be that guy anymore, that she had broken him.

But sitting there, whispering a fraction of what he wanted to say to her, was one thousand times more liberating than any fight they could have had. He felt her weight shift next to him, before it was totally removed from the couch altogether. Her light footsteps reverberated throughout the quiet house, and he looked up in time to see her pause outside of their bedroom.

"Noah, I'm sorry I was our snow." And with that, she turned her back to him, and retreated into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.


End file.
